


Words and Gestures

by Bardic_Feline



Series: Curetown AU [1]
Category: Left 4 Dead, Left 4 Dead: Ladyverse, Respect A Woman
Genre: Curetown AU, Depression, F/F, Implied backstory death, M/M, Non-graphic violance, mentions of amputation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardic_Feline/pseuds/Bardic_Feline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>So, how did Juan end up looking after Sha in the first place?  This is...well, PART of the story of how it happened.</i><br/>This could probably qualify as hurt-comfort, I guess.</p><p> </p><p>Set in Zarla's Gender Swap Curetown AU.</p><p>(To anyone who was hoping for actual, canon L4D characters...I am sorry, this is not the fic you are looking for.  Only gender swap zombies, original characters, and expies of stupidly minor characters from other fandoms here.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words and Gestures

           “Is he ok?”

            Juan started, and stepped back slightly; he somehow hadn’t expected the room’s occupant to be awake yet, but there he was, fiddling restlessly with the small horse shaped beanie plush that he always seemed to have on his person somewhere.* Either they had exaggerated when they said the big, former zombie had been pumped full with enough tranqs to take down a small heard of bull elephants, or the situation was worse then they realized.  But there the giant man was, deceptively casual in his posture, even while manacled to the wall of the sterile observation room.  Juan laughed, somewhat hollowly, and rubbed absentmindedly at his throat. “Heh…man, why am I even surprised that that would be the first thing outta your mouth?  I mean, if it had been ME, I’d probably want to know how long I’d been out, or why I was cuffed to the wall, or…”

            “Juan. Answer. The. Damn. Question. Is Sha OK?” the question was delivered in a quiet, only slightly muffled tone.**

            Juan sighed, and let his hand drop.  “He’ll live. He doesn’t even have the worst injuries…you only managed to swipe him a bit in passing. He’s already awake and everything.  Was bugging me to check on you even.” He looked up at the large ex-infected pointedly. “You didn’t manage to kill anyone this time, either, in case you were wondering.”

            The giant grunted and looked up, meeting the smaller man’s gaze with an even stare.  “What kind of injuries?”

            “Tor…!”

            “Juan!” The former leaned his head back against the wall with a deep sigh.  “Look, I heard you about the other people; contrary to popular belief, I’m not stupid.  I know what I am, I know what I’m capable of when…when I go…THAT.  I just. Please.  Tell me what I did to him.”

           “Aaaah…really, relatively speaking, not much.  Uh, dislocated wrist, couple of bruised ribs, some minor scrapes, VERY minor concussion.  Already trying to find a way to make this one his fault, too…”

           Tory gave a huge bark of laughter, and wiped his face with the back of  his hand.  “Gah, dammit, Sha--!” He shook his head, suddenly looking tired.  “So, how many WERE hurt, then?  And is everyone going to recover?”

           “Only three this time; it was a near thing with Griff…you know, cause he set you off and all…one of his ribs scratched his left lung…but he was the only one with actual broken bones.  So you lucked out.”

            “I lucked out, huh?” said Tory with another tired laugh, but a lot of the tension seemed to leave him.  “You mean ‘luckily the tranqs worked’, really.  I guess there’s no point in asking if they are going to unchain me anytime soon?”

            Juan winced, and allowed himself to sag against the wall. “D-Dammit, Tor, this….you really need ta be taking this more seriously man.”

            “I’m bein’ completely serious, darlin’.  I jus ALSO wanna know if…when I can see my adorable lil’ nerd again. S’not that I don’t CARE about that other stuff, s’jus…I jus Already KNOW that was my worst one yet.”

            “First time you’ve ever hit Mage-y, even if it WAS by mistake, yeah. That was one of the things the Mads were talking about.”  Juan sunk into himself a little further as he admitted it.

            “First time I’ve ever woken up in restraints since they revived me.” The giant gave Juan another level gaze.  “I’m almost out of chances.”

            “Tor…”

            “Don’ lie ta me, darlin’, it’s no secret.”

            “Arrggh, it’s no fucking fair, is all! When your…when your YOU, you’re GREAT, you’re like poster child for the cure, an…”

            “S’jus those pesky relapses, I know.”

            They sat in silence for a moment; neither could quite meet the others eye.

            “So, seriously, when can I see him?”

            “As soon as he’s feeling well enough to walk over.” Said Juan. “Or sooner, if he can manage it.  He’s really worried about you, you know.”

            Small smile. “Yeah.”

            “As for the restraints…well, they’re gonna give you another evaluation sometime today, before they decide.  It’s kinda a split decision right now…”

            “Hmmm. They watching us right now?” He asked, gesturing toward the opaque mirrored observation window with a small head movement.

            “At the moment…? No. I technically probably shouldn’t even BE in here, but…well, no one thought to tell me NOT to come and Sha was getting worried.  Besides, no one expected you to be conscious yet….”

            Tora grunted. “...right then.  Darlin’, I’m afraid I need a coupla favors from ya.”

            “Like…?”

            “You ain’t gonna like what I’m about to say, but jus’ listen anyway...”

            Juan felt his jaw go slack as he listened, felt his face go numb.  All he could do was stare.

            “Well?” said Tory, finally.

            “Tor…fuck you.  Fuck you for even asking that, you overgrown…giant…big…”

            The tank laughed, a deep rumbling sound that seemed to resonate in the small room.  “I did warn you, darlin’.  Also…what did I say that made it sound like I was ASKING?”

 

* _”Why on earth do you carry that demented looking thing?”  Juan asked one day, in a somewhat rushed voice; it had taken him a while to work up the nerve to ask it._  
 _Tory took so long in responding—instead sitting there quality and starring at the blue maned thing with the swirled eyes-- that at first Juan thought that he either hadn’t heard the question or was deliberately ignoring it.  But then, the big guy chuckled, a low rumbling sound, before saying simply: “It was a gift.”_  
 _And that was all the information he would ever give on the subject._

_**Tanks, unlike Spitters, actually still had a lower jaw to save.  Unfortunately, their particular strain of mutation caused the aforementioned mandible to more or less get absorbed into their chests, so part of the curing process for a Tank involved surgically removing the jawbone from the collarbone.  The exact process was still being perfected, so the end result was a badly scarred chin and jawline, the lower lip all but missing._  
 _Tory dealt with that as gracefully as he could by wearing a scarf wrapped around most of the lower half of his face._

***~* Weeks later *~***  
 **Juan POV**

            Juan always checked the smaller man’s hands before he did anything else; had to make sure the bandages weren’t wet and not too dirty, that he wasn’t bleeding through them (again), that he hadn’t been chewing at the bandages or the stiches (again)…his charge was silent through this.

            “Lookin’ good, Mage-y.” said Juan, a forced sort of cheeriness in his voice.  “We won’t have to get these changed early, again.  Good thing, too…you know that weird doctor was threatening to put one of those neck cone things on ya if you tore your bandages off again, right? I mean…you should…you were right there when she said it, but you know…”

            The former infected only stared blankly back, a slight tilt of his head the only indication that he might have heard anything.  (Which…granted, was better than crying or growling or nothing.) His eyes, greenish yellow, glowed faintly even in the neutral light of the room.

            Juan sighed again. “Right.  Ok…let’s fix your hair.”  He pulled a wide toothed brush out of his pocket, and set to work putting the wild mane of reddish brown hair into some semblance of order…not an easy task, as the loose curls tended to want to go everywhere, and could only take the most careful of combings without turning into an impenetrably frizzy mass.  Most brushes just caught and snagged. “Heh…don’t get me wrong, I like how it looks and all, but damn I have no idea how you lived…live with this mass.” Said Juan teasingly, using his fingers to coax a particularly stubborn snarl out.  “Never got the impression that hair care would be a major top priority of yours, you know, and this is a really high maintenance mop you have. “

            Deciding it was as good as he was going to get it right then, Juan pulled the curls back into a low, loose tail, which he secured with a bit of green ribbon.  He observed the effect, and shook his head.  It looked nice…remarkably so, really…but the nice hair seemed almost garish, framing Sha’s small, thin, greyish face, mottled as it was with new and old burn scars.  (Juan got the impression that Sha hadn’t been the world’s most handsome guy even BEFORE any of this had happened, but it still wasn’t doing him any favors.)

            “I’m trying to decide if that is cute or not; you fussing over him like a mother hen with one incredibly ugly chick.”

            “Hi Doctor Lisa.” Said Juan, not bothering to look up.

            “Mind you, ugly is a pretty subjective term…I mean, I personally kind of think he’s cute in a baby bat kind of way.  Or something small and nocturnal that largely dwells in shit filled caves, at any rate…”

            “So I was thinking about trying and taking him for a walk or something…” said Juan, who had learned from experience that it was best not to encourage this particular mad scientist too much.  “Maybe a change in environment might help, you know?  Can’t be good for him to just be inside all the time…”

            “Something with big glowy eyes and pretty much no body fat.  Some kind of fish, maybe…?”

            “And if we stuck to the cured districts, no real risk of him having a relapse, right?  I mean, if he starts actually responding…” continued Juan, undaunted.  “Fresh air, exercise, some actual stimulus for ONCE…”

            “And I’m sure you’ve thought over any risk to yourself, being a lone survivor in a district filled with ex-infected, Mr. Rivera?  You wouldn’t exactly blend in…” said the doctor, shooting him a darkly amused look.  “Not that I can actually tell you what to do with yourself, but it would be all sorts of fun for the mage here if you got killed and he ended up stranded in a strange place.  GOLLUM!”

            “I can look out for myse…wait, what?”

            “That’s who he reminds me of, Gollum!  Is that what you are, Mage-y, a horribly twisted hobbit-thing from a story written by a dead white guy?  Is that it? Go on…say ‘Gollum’! Or precious, yess, precious…come on, you can do it…”

            “Have I ever told you how twisted you are, Doc?”

            “Have I ever told you how much I don’t care?  Anyway, if you really want to risk it, I don’t think anyone is going to stop you right now…and it really MIGHT jog something in his brain.  He’s definitely showing more signs of response than he was a few weeks again, so you might be onto something.  But if you survive, I do expect a full report, you get me?”

            “I repeat…completely twisted.” Said Juan, flinging a cloak over the the mage’s shoulders.

***~*Flashback *~***  
 **Juan POV**

            “You know, I honestly think you are the only witch-type who CARES about maintaining any form of modesty?” said Juan, watching the smaller man as he awkwardly held the green cloak on with his badly-truncated fingers.  “Most of them don’t even bother with any kind of coverup on top…they know that chances are they’ll just relapse and tear ‘em off.”

            Sha gave him a pointed look.  “I do no like going shirtless.  If I cannot manage that, then I will compromise as best as I can.”

            “Also, you are a GUY, honestly who cares?”

            “Give it up, Juan, he’s always been like this.  If the plague can’t destroy his delicate nerdlike sensibilities, than nothing can.” The big man let out another rumbling laugh.  “A pity, really…I wouldn’ mind at ALL if he decided to start wearing less.”

            “I am confident you are the only one weird enough to have those particular sentiments.” Said Sha,  thumping his big friend on the shoulder with his free hand.

            “Awww…Juan, back me up here, tell him he doesn’t look that bad…!”

            “Errr…”  Juan had seen Mage-y without a shirt PLENTY of times when the smaller man was still under the full influence of the infection.  The word ‘cadaverous’ came readily to mind.  “No comments.”

            “Translation: ‘yes, Sha, you are as ugly as sin, and no sane person should be subjected the sight of your uncovered chest, ever.’”

            “Hey, woah, I wouldn’t go THAT far.” Said Juan, conscious of the affronted look on Tora’s face.  “But…you probably aren’t going to be winning any beauty contests any time soon.”

            “Hey, that’s MY adorable little nerd your talkin’ about there, darlin’.”

            “Who said I was ‘your’ ANYTHING?”

            Juan laughed quietly and slipped away unnoticed while the world’s oddest couple launched into another round of bickering.

***~* Present *~***  
 **Juan POV**

 

            Juan kept up a stream of one-sided dialogue as he lead the silent little figure down the street, trying not to dwell on how much he really did miss hearing the Mage’s oddly precise way of talking, or the incredibly laid-back way Tor would always counter him.  Easier to fill up the silence with meaningless noise than wish for things he couldn’t have.

            “This part of town is slowly turning back into something that kind of sort of looks like civilization?  Helps that the cured are actually opening up some shops and things down here…Curetown shopping district, can you imagine?  If heard there’s a farmer’s market now, which kinda blows my mind.  And someone is opening a bakery, if the gossip I heard is anything like right.  Hey, maybe they’ll have sweet pastries or something…you’d like that, I bet.   You always did like sweet things…I guess that’s a witch thing, really, but it’s also always felt like a…a YOU thing, too?  I dunno.  Hey, come this way, let these guys pass…”

            Juan pulled the silent cloaked figure a bit closer, watching (somewhat nervously) as a group of cured commons walked by.  Commons had a nasty habit of relapsing when in large groups*, and being around survivors could sometimes be a catalyst.

            “Man, what I wouldn’t give to know what you were like before you got sick.” He continued, talking to calm himself down more than anything.  “I mean, were you always as…as eccentric as you are now?  I kinda got the feeling…if those journal entries Angie found next to you are anything to go by…that you were always kind of an odd one.  Err…not that that’s a BAD thing, mind!  But it’s still hard to be sure from that…I mean, it did sound like you wrote a lot of that stuff while your mind was actively going out on you.**  Though, the sad fact is, I get the feeling we probably never would have met under normal circumstances. “

            Juan paused a moment at that last thought.  “’Come to that…that DOES sort of raise the question about how on earth you managed to hook up with a guy like Tory. “ He shuddered involuntarily as he said that name, and he realized for the first time that he’d been unconsciously been avoiding saying it out loud ever since…well, ever since Sha had stopped talking.  “I mean, you guys…you guys worked together almost absurdly well, even though I honestly have no clue what you guys really had in common.  How on earth did you actually meet?”

            If Juan had been paying proper attention to his charge properly at that moment, he might have noticed the expression on Sha’s face change slightly for the first time in ages.

            “I really miss him, you know?” said Juan.  “I really…well, I do, I miss him.”  He shook his head hard, and wiped at his eyes irritably.  “I miss a LOT of people.  I miss a lot of things.  Yeah, awkward seque there, and probably hideously inappropriate to bring up in this context, but I wish I had my old guitar, y’know?  Couldn’t bring it with me when the outbreak happened…too bulky and all…but it’s like…first my guitar, then a freaking tongue monster messes up my vocal range so I can’t sing the same, and…and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I didn’t have you to look after.  Which is the MOST pathetic thing I could ever admit aloud, but there you have it.   Hmm…I guess maybe I could look into getting a new instrument…but really, who the hell needs a small-time musician in the frigging post apocalypse?”

            Behind him, Sha wrinkled his nose, and pursed his lips.  He made a soft sound in the back of his throat, almost inaudibly; but this, Juan (who had trained himself to pick up on even incredibly subtle noises…it was a music thing) noticed.  He felt his heart jump slightly, and he spun around.  His mouth dropped open, and he took an involuntary step backwards.  “Mage-y…holy…did you…did you hear me? Oh shit, please do something else if you…”

            Juan, unfortunately, did not get to finish that statement.  Or that thought.  In his stunned state, he’d failed to notice that he’d stepped a little bit too far into the open.  He was a lone survivor, standing in the middle of a sidewalk in the middle of the infected district of Curetown, and he wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings.  The Charger’s angry bellow hit his ear only a split second before the actual Charger did, and he was carried helplessly down the street.

* _Dr. Lisa and Dr. Kaggie had once had a rather enthusiastic debate about whether or not the tendency for groups of commons to turn nasty was a trait they had had prior to the infection or not; it was the first time Juan had ever heard anyone compare a horde to a mosh pit, and he had to admit that (apart from the cannibalism) he could see the similarities.  Dr. Kaggie had ultimately, and rather sulkily, broken off the debate on the grounds that she couldn’t think of a way to test the hypothesis under laboratory conditions._

**(( _Reference to unfinished fic, GO!  Sha was originally found by Juan, Mousey/Angie, Sparkles, and Griffin in the Mercy Hospital Medical Library (an area that didn’t exist in the game, but nevermind).  By sheer dumb luck, they managed to incapacitate him rather than kill him, and then they got the bright idea to put him on a doggie leash and drag him to the nearest interested medical center (or something) on the grounds that a male variant of a witch was probably unusual enough to be valuable.  The bit I’ve put up so far didn’t go into it, but there was an almost throwaway detail near the end mentioning that Mousey took a stack of notes from the library without the rest of her team noticing; these would prove to be the Sha’s journal entries._  
 _This, incidentally, is how Juan learned Sha’s real name._  
 _…Also, I honestly don’t know what happened to Sparkles and Griffin between this fic and that one, though SOMETHING probably made their group dissolve.))_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 **Sha’s POV…sortof**

            Sha’s mouth dropped open as he stared uncomprehendingly at the now empty patch of ground in front of him.  Slowly, stupidly, as if coming out a deep sleep, he looked around; a small whimpering noise built up in his throat.  After several seconds, he took a small, faltering step, and began walking…in the opposite direction Juan had been carried.

~~~~~~~~  
 **Smoker POV**

            Mousey looked at the shop front, an admittedly sappy grin splitting her freckly little face.  Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses, as she grabbed the arm of the tall woman next to her, and shook it excitedly.  “This is it!  Can you believe it?  In just a few days, we’re going to open your first-ever bakery!”

            Smoker rolled her one remaining eye as the smaller woman babbled cheerfully next to her, managing only with some effort to not point out there was there was not now, nor would there ever be a ‘we’ when it came to Mousey and her.  Especially not when it came to Smoker’s new bakery.  Still, she couldn’t completely fault the kid for being excited; she certainly felt more energetic and…she was almost scared think it…hopeful than she had since...well, since before the outbreak happened.  Instead, just leaned forward, and locked the door of HER (she still couldn’t believe it) future shop.

            It was hard to say exactly whose idea it had been; Hunter, Jockey, or Charger’s.  (Mousey, who was still excitedly talking about how FAR Smoker had come, and how proud Mousey was to be a part of this big step, would probably have liked to take credit, though.)  The conversation had happened over dinner one night; Smoker had finally gotten back into the grove of cooking regularly, and on some level even relished the challenge of working with more limited resources than she had been accustomed to using prior to the epidemic.  After some initial missteps, she’d also gotten used to never working without a taste tester on hand, and to following the recipes a bit more closely than she used to.

            (In a round-about way, this had served to make her a bit closer to Hunter, who’s sense of smell and taste had only gotten sharper now that she’d lost her vision.  She could actually SMELL when the dish Smoker was making had reached the perfect level of doneness, better than any thermometer ever could have.  Smoker never over spiced the food with Hunter by her side. With their combined efforts, Smoker was now turning out meals that even that jackass Ray would grudgingly praise.)

            They had just finished the main meal, and Smoker had then surprised everyone (except for Hunter, whose nose could not be fooled) by bringing out a cake.  It wasn’t fancy or anything.  Just a simple pound cake, along with some fresh fruit she’d picked up at Barry and Boomer’s Farmer’s Market.*  Still, it was the first time she’d ever baked anything for her team, and their enthusiastic response left her feeling oddly light and happy.

             So it was some point during the after-dessert chatter that the subject of jobs had come up; with the district undergoing a kind of retrograde urban renewal, the government had started encouraging the town residents to find actual employment.  (There was even talk about a job placement agency being opened.)  And somehow, with their bellies full of Smoker’s good pound cake, one of them…no one could remember who said it first anymore…had asked if Smoker had ever considered selling her baking.

             They’d decided on a trial run, first; with their help, she spent the entire day in the kitchen the next couple of days, turning out quick breads and simple pastries, which they’d peddled around the neighborhood.  The response had been almost unprecedentedly good, and within weeks, she was found herself filling out the necessary paperwork to open her own storefront.  (Admittedly, Mousie had proved useful here, as she was in a better place to find out what all Smoker and the ladies needed to get to accomplish this goal.  Even if they had had to coach her in regards to what questions she should be asking, which they learned by first going to Barry and Boomer for advice.)

             In another major first, Smoker realized that for the first time in her life, she was going into a brand new venture that would involve her doing…for a LIVING…something that she actually liked doing.  And those things she could remember doing in her much-hated old job from her old life…accounting skills and such…those were all things that were already proving to be useful in her new life.  To be honest, she was terrified;  it was hard for her to trust the feeling of being this happy.  Things just didn’t work this well for her normally.

             But here she was, standing in front of her own shopfront…one which had a kitchen she had been spending time fixing up to her own specifications, and it was REALLY happening.  She felt her lips twitch into a smile, and wished that she had Hunter with her instead of the Mousey girl, because all of a sudden, all she wanted to do was pull her girlfriend into a hug.  Oh well.

             She suddenly realized that Mousey had asked her a question.  [What was that, sorry, got lost in thought.] She typed.

             “Oh…umm…I was just asking if you remembered where we were supposed to meet the others?” said Mousey girl, in a slightly hurt tone.

              [Up the street some ways; Charger had to run some errands, and Hunter and Jockey went along to help her carry stuff.  They said something about a café opening a few blocks down, remember?]

              “Oh right!  They wanted to treat you as a celebration for this.”  Mousey beamed. “Sorry, I just got so worked up that…”

               [Yeah, yeah, I get it, don’t get all mushy on me.]

               Mousey opened her mouth like she was going to respond, but was interrupted by a loud bellow, as Barry the Charger barreled past on the other side of the street, stopping only when he reached a now useless bus stop awning where he proceeded to do his very best to beat the life out of some helpless sucker.

 

* _The opening of which had caused a small stir in the cured district; most of them hadn’t gotten far enough past the simple amazement that they were still breathing to even consider a scenario where they would be able to do something as simple as buy local produce again, much less from a shop owned and stocked by members of their own oddball community._

**Sha  POV ***

            To say Sha was confused would have been giving him too much credit. To reach a state of confusion, for him, would have required him to be able to first be able to form a coherent thought.  When asked about it later, the best way he could think of to describe the state he was in at that moment was ‘bee stung.’

            “Like my mind was full of venom, and so swollen up that nothing was connecting properly; also my brain was completely numb.”

            He was HAVING thoughts, of a sort, but they weren’t exactly in words, and those words that he could get congnitize were all in useless bits and phrases, and he was a little vague on how any of them were meant to go together, and he couldn’t focus on any of them long enough to sense of them any way-oh, listen what I say oooohh…

            He shook his…thing…whasit, it was a thing what…he…sk…cranium.  Thing.  That thing.  What he was visualizing and conceptualizing with or at least failing to and failing HARD.

            He stumbled, and held himself against a whatsit..metal…thing…pole…radiant energy sometimes came from the top he thought.  Maybe.  Had he imagined that?

            He had a VAGUE idea that there was supposed to be another bipedal thingamatalker with him… _’On’, ‘Phon’, ‘Gone’, ‘Wahn’_? But they’d blinked out with a woosh and a noise, and now he was surrounded with groaning grey bipedals, none of whom he really recognized.  The concept of WHERE was a bit beyond him at the moment; he was still getting used…re-used to the idea of having a physical form. Self. Concept of self.  Party of one. Me oh my oh something something freer than a bird in a rocking-oh hi oh…

            He put his…things…dexterous…sinister…carpals, metacarpals…phalanges…things what things…whatever the whole of the things were called, seemed to be down by one phalange segment per extremity…the distals.  He was missing his distal phalanges. The intermediate and proximal phalanges were still there, coming neatly off the metacarpals like that should only wrapped in something rough rough rough textured and white. He’d been pretty sure he’d had his distals somewhere, severed at the collateral ligaments, and now they were gone gone gone just like Wahn Awn Mawn Pawn…damdamndamnwhatever those things were called, he put them over the things that made him visualize things things things (well, after he managed to get rid of those...cover...things that someone had put in front of them...only after they were gone suddenly everything seemed so much BRIGHTER arrrrggh) and thumped the back of his cranium against the tall thing trying to will the tunes in his skull to quiet down please long enough for him to figure out how to drain out the bee venom.  His two extremities…which he was vaguely sure belonged to him…they throbbed, agonized…pained?  Especially in the places that were not there anymore.

            The Distal Phalanges.  Those shouldn’t hurt (that was the word, HURT), they weren’t there (but it…thing…as if they WERE…) and and sodium filled liquid was spilling from his I/O ports, and the rough textured wrappings on his phalanged extremities got damp.  He had a vague idea that he should not have done that.  WahnPawnGONE probably wouldn’t like it.  Sha wasn’t sure why that was a problem, but there it was.

            He sobbed, and flinchjumpedstartled at the noise the came from such a close proximity.  _That was us…me…I made that.  I-me-my-throat-vocal-chord-tooth-tongue-lip-chin-mouth-nose-eyes-face-brain_ SMACK _ow hello radiant energy pole, meet the far back of my skull again would you like to come over for tea sometime please thankyou OW shut up._ He shook his craniu…HEAD. Head, that was the word he was looking for! Again, and tried to focus.  That noise had come from HIM his own throat him, and he’d made it by…by…gas, air particles from his…not his ventricles or aorta, but something close in proximity to that one either side, causing the…the…THINGS in his jugulum…THROAT to vibrate and produce audible sound.  Somehow.

            Several minutes…several lifetimes (but who timing anything really, time was puddings and he was radiant energy so what did he care) of experiments found him able to various pitches of sounds in his throat somehow, and he was sure it was coming from his throat because he had his intermediate phalanges pressed against it and could feel the vibrations.  Hummmmmmmmmmmmm that was what that noise was called hummmmmmmminnnnngggggggggg maybe not so many letters hmmmm.

            _Goooottttaa find Mr. Wahnpawnjohngonetawnsaun._ Somehow, he was not sure how he knew how to do this, he pushed himself away from the pole _goodbyeradiantenergyfriend_ staggered forward and almost fell on his facenosemouthhead, but managed to catch himself on his intermediate and proximal phalanges _OW_ and continued to stagger forward.  After doing this for a bit, he’d finally mastered the fine art of putting one whatsit in front of the other without falling all over the place.

            He was proud of himself, oddly enough.  And that was when he smacked face first into a girl wearing kitty ears, and sat down hard on the pavement ohshiththat’swhatthatwascalled.

 

* _also known as the ‘what even is this’ viewpoint._  
~~~~~~~~~

**Smoker POV**

 

             They stared in shock; Mousey surprised them both by recovering first, and then--in an admirable and spontaneous show of fortitude—ran across the street yelling wildly.  “Barry!  Barry, put him DOWN This instant!  You are human, remember, HUMAN, and you can’t just go around smacking people into things! You are BETTER THAN THAT.  BARRY PUT HIM DOWN NOW.”

             Smoker followed, feeling impressed almost in spite of herself.  _Guess all those lessons with Charger are finally starting to stick._ She watched as the normally timid girl actually jumped, grabbing Barry by his oversized shoulder and hanging from it, yelling into his ear the entire time.  She must have finally gotten through to the green grocer, because he stopped bashing the survivor into the ground mid-swing, blinking his one good eye stupidly as he visibly came back to himself. He slowly looked down at what he had in his hand, and seemed to almost shrink.

            “Oh my gosh!” He said, his eye wide, dropping the survivor and stepping back.  “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I…I am so sorry I thought…haven’t relapsed like that in weeks…WHAT were you doing walking by yourself down here anyway, were you TRYING to get yourself attacked?”  The last line he bellowed at the still prone survivor.  (Who, to Smoker’s relief, actually groaned a response that sounded a bit like “Wasn’ bym’self…”)

            “Angiemousie, I swear, I didn’t…” continued the agitated Barry, but Mousie put her hand on his arm and patted him awkwardly before he could continue.

            “Barry, we know, i-it happens, you didn’t do it on purpose, we know you!  You’re too sweet to hurt anyone one purpose…”

            “Miss Angie…”

             [Is anyone going to check out the human roadkill here, or are we just going to leave him to bleed out?] typed Smoker, realizing that someone had to be the voice of reason.

             “O-oh, yeah, that’s…hold on.  Sir, are you—ohmygod JUAN!”

              As Mousey said that, Smoker had just taken her first real look at the guy, and had been shocked to realize she recognized him.  Even with half his face already swelling slightly, darkening into what would no doubt be and impressive set of bruises later…even with the ropey scar around his throat…even then, he was still unmistakably her much reviled ex-boyfriend.  (Ok, so she couldn’t remember precisely what he’d done to piss her off, but seeing him here wasn’t exactly helping preserve her feeling of warm fuzziness.) She actually blurted out his name herself…or as close as she could pronounce it without a tongue.

             Mousey looked at her, startled.  Even without a tongue, evidently her exclamation had been JUST comprehensible enough.  “Smoker, y-you know this guy? How?”

            [We used to date.  Years ago.  How do YOU know this guy.]  Smoker typed it out quickly, not even bothering to punctuate correctly.  She felt a bit numb.

            “…umm…you might not believe this, b-but he and I dated for a little bit…not long before I got my apartment in the survivors district…’

            [You have GOT to be kidding me. ]

            “No, I’m really not…we…we broke up pretty quickly, because…”  Smoker was shocked to see the timid girl, eyes bright with tears, actually looked angry…”well, he said some things, that was part of it, but what really did it for me was…oh I can’t even say it!” As uncharacteristically angry as she looked, apparently this didn’t stop Mousey from crouching down and helping the badly bruised musician into a seated position.

            Amazingly, in spite of the beating he’d just taken, he was still conscious and coherent.  A fact that he demonstrated by looking up at the trio standing over him, eyes quickly settling on the two ladies, and groaning loudly.  “Ohmygod, I’ve died and gone the land of the angry ex-girlfriends.  Are there any more of you around here.”

            [Just us as far as I know.]

            “…wow.  And that I cannot deal with right now at all.  Can one of you help me up, please?”

            “Shouldn’t you wait here until we’ve managed to call in a medic or something, fella?” said Barry, looking equal parts guilty and concerned.

            “That is an excellent point, guy-who-just-beat-me-up.  Thank you, guy-who-just-beat-me-up.  And thank you, Angie-who-just-rescued-me.  However, as much as I’m enjoying this moment of extended and painful awkward…and believe me, I MEAN it when I say ‘painful’…I really do not have time to sit here and be injured.”  To Smoker’s amazement, her ex actually pulled himself the rest of the way up, all on his own.  Standing, it was clear he was having trouble staying steady on his feet, but he was bound and determined not to go back down.

            “Buddy, you really should lay back down before you fall down…” began Barry, but Juan cut him off.

            “I told you already, I don’t have TIME for that. “ He was only slurring his words slightly.  “I was walking with someone…someone who really doesn’t need to be out here on his own… and, arrgh dammitdammit…” he leaned over, clutching his left knee and cussing “fuckitALL, I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS.”

            [Who exactly are you looking for?] typed Smoker, beginning to feel a bit alarmed in spite of her irritation.  She hadn’t remembered him being THIS...well...STUPID about things.

             “Fuck…aaah…short male witch, curly red hair, scars all over his face, would answer to the name of ‘Sha’ if he were talking…”

             “Mage?  They let you keep looking after Mage after what you did?” yelped Mousey, her evident outrage overcoming her natural timidness.  “And you BROUGHT HIM OUT HERE? What were they thinking?  What were YOU thinking?”

             “Oh for…help me find him NOW, and you can lecture me all you like about it later.” Snapped Juan, before limping back the way he had come, as fast as his bleeding leg would carry him.  Barry, stunned but obedient, followed closely behind.

             Mousey stared after him, mouth open, face flushed.  She shook her head hard, and started after the odd little procession.  Smoker soon found herself jogging to keep up.

             [What did HE do to get you so cheesed off, kid?] she somehow managed to type.

             “Oh not much.  He only MURDERED the Mage’s best friend!”

            [What.]

 

~~~~~~~~~  
 **Sha POV**  
     

            “Ow! Hey, watch were you’re going, dude, kinda blind as shit here.”

            He blinked up at her.  She was wearing a dark green hoodie with…yes, he hadn’t imagined it…kitty ears.  And it was wrapped in what appeared to be…stuffstuff DUCT TAPE yeah!  Or was it Duck Tape?

            “Hey, man, say something so I know you’re ok.  I heard you hit the ground there…sorry for knocking you over, by the way…even if you DID walk into me first.  Just saying.”

            He stared up at her.  Somewhat to his own amazement, the things she was saying actually DID make total sense to him.  The mere act of hearing spoken language had seemed to free up some sluggish portion of his brain and kick it into a higher realm of function.  And he did grasp that she expected him to say something back to him, but…he wasn’t what he was meant to say.  Or how.  He hummed and stared at her instead.

            “You are seriously starting to worry me here.  I KNOW you are still there…I can smell yah AND hear ya.  And you haven’t gotten up yet.  Hey, seriously, reassure the blind girl here.  Say something.  ‘I’m Ok.’ Or ‘I’m NOT Ok.’  Or, hell, introduce yourself, that’ll work.  My name is Hunter, what’s yours?”  She punctuated that last sentence by thumping her tape covered chest, then pointing in his general direction.

            _You Hunter, me Shawn?_ He thought, and then wondered why he’d thought it.

            “AHAHAHahaha Hunter, hey, Hunter, we’re over here, you went the wrong way again, and it’s not even raining this time!  Wait, did you just punch that guy out or something?  Wait, IS that a guy?”  A blonde girl with a messed up lower jaw _some part of his brain tried to seize up_ (Sha whimpered  out loud) in pink and yellow, who looked shorter than she really was because she was hunched over, peered at him from behind the hoodie tape girl named Hunter.  “Oh ahahaha sorry, you are a guy, I got it right the first time.  Sorry.”  She shook uncontrollably and laughed like it was punctuation.

            He stared at her, now more at a loss of what to say than ever.  Why was she shaking so much?  Should he be trembling too? Was that expected?  He tried to mimic her, and ended up just doing a weird looking waving thing.  For some reason, this made her howl with laughter.

            “What, what is it.” Said the blind-girl-Hunter.  “Jockey, what is up with this guy anyway?”

            “ Hee heee, no it was just something he…god, I don’t know what he was just doing, but it looked WEIRD.  Anyway, I think he’s a witch.  His hands look just like Warlock’s hands…fingers all too short, hands covered with bandages.  And he’s got pretty red hair!”  the strange-girl-Jockey looked directly at him and said “Hey, you are a witch, right?  Nod at me if I’m right.”

            He seized onto that immediately, happily latching onto the fact that he KNEW WHAT SHE MEANT when she said to ‘nod’, and did so vigorously.  She laughed again.  “There, see, that was a yes!”

            “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

            “Oooh, sorry, you know I didn’t mean it that way.”

            “Don’t worry about it.”

            “Soooo, your ARE a guy witch.” Continued Jockey, looking directly back at him again.  “What’s your name?  Do you know my friend Warlock?  I think he said his real name is Wilhelm…dunno how he learned that…but he’s another guy witch like you.  Only taller, and with paler hair.  And he’s not all covered in scars…did you get hit by a lot of molotovs or something?”

            “Jockey, man, you gotta give the time to speak, sis!” Laughed Hunter.  “If he CAN speak.  Can you speak?  Hey, do you really not have any fingers left?”

            Inexplicably annoyed at the question, Sha held out his…his…HAND holyshit why did it take him so long to come up with that word HAND out at the blind girl, and waved it at her.  It took Jockey laughing at him again, and cheerfully describing what he was doing to Hunter, before he realized why it wasn’t working.

            “You WAVED at a blind girl, really?  I guess you were trying to show me your incredible lack of fingers, huh?  Did they really chop them off?  Does it hurt?  Did they chop the whole things off, or just part?  Hey, do you speak English at all or what?”

            _I VERY CLEARLY STILL HAVE FINGERS._ He thought, somewhat angrily, waving again.

            “He waved at you again, and now he’s just kinda holding his hand out.”

            “Seriously, man, what part of ‘blind’ are you struggling with here.  Ok, try this on for size…’Hunter does not have EYES as Crazy Manwitch does not have….’”

            “DISTAL PHALANGES.” He jumped, startled by the fact that that sound had registered from his own throat.  He’d said it almost involuntarily and oh RIGHT that’s how I do that.

            “What.” Said Hunter.

            “What.” Said Jockey.

            “Distal Phalanges!” He said, and winced, realizing how much he hated repeating himself.  “Hunter has no eyes, me…I…Sha has no distal phalanges!”

            “Is he trying to come on to me or something?” muttered Hunter.

            Sha grunted in frustration, and held his hand out a little harder.  “Carpals, Metacarpals, both here.” He said patiently.  “Proximal Phalanges, Intermediate Phalanages, both here.  No Distal Phalanges, gone.  Should be held on by collateral ligaments HERE. “  He really didn’t get why she was still so confused.  He was being VERY precise.

            “What’s the hold up, you two?” said a third, deeper (yet still feminine) voice.  He looked up to see a short woman with a fairly solid figure and a dark complexion.  Her head appeared to be misshapen, one side of her face scarred up.   She was missing an arm, and her right side arm was HUGE.  She looked down at him, and a look of concern crossed her face.  “Are you alright?”

            “Distal Phalanges!” He said, almost reflexively at this point, and immediately felt like smacking himself.  The resulting silence was almost solid enough cut with a witch’s claw (present or otherwise.)

            “I’m sorry, why are you talking about fingertips?”

            “DISTAL PHALANGES!”

            “Oh, Dude, Charger, is THAT what that means?  He keeps saying that, and I guess he was trying to answer my question about whether or not they cut off all his fingers or something, but he wouldn’t just freaking SAY that.”

            “TRYING.” Shouted Sha.

            “Whatever, man.  Seriously, what is up with you and talking, did you just forget how or something?”

            “Yes.”

            The resulting silence was, if anything, more awkward than the first.  It wasn’t until Hunter had outright said it, and he’d automatically agreed to it, that he’d really realized that that was actually what had happened.  He felt liquid…tears come to his…his EYES again, another sob building in his throat.

            “O…kay.”  Said Hunter, looking red faced.  “Wow…I…feel like 10 kinds of jerk now.”

            Charger…he guessed that’s what she was called…gave him another long look.  “Jockey, help him up.  You….male witch?  I guess you kept on using the term distal phalanges because ‘fingertips’ is an inadequate descriptor?”

            He nodded, forcing himself not to cry somehow. “Y-yes.”

            “Aha.  The Distal Phalanges refers specifically to the third bone of the phalanx group, or the fingers above the knuckles.  The distal phalange bones on a human are directly analogous to, say, the bones that the claws of a cat grow out of.  Which is the part that veterinary surgeons amputate when they ‘declaw’ them.”

            “Ooooh, I get it…Awww, shit, ew, is that REALLY what they do to declaw a cat?  That is kinda fucked up there.”

            “Evidently, it is also what they do to declaw a witch.”

            “Yes.” Said Sha.  He stared at his feet awkwardly, and wished the three ladies would stop staring at him.

            “Sooooo, what’s your name?” said Jockey, in kind of forced cheery tone.

            “SHA!”  Sha jumped. He hadn’t said that at all this time; it had come from a different voice from behind him. He spun around to meet it.

            “Yes?”  He smiled.  “Mr. Juan!”

            (“Must be his handler.” Muttered Charger.  
            “A survivor is his handler?” hissed back Jockey, sounding somewhat alarmed.)

            The familiar brunette in the blue shirt half jogged, half limped up to meet him; one side of his face was completely bruised up, and he was scowling.   And for some reason, he was being closely followed by a male Charger, a familiar looking mousey woman, and a tall woman with an eye patch who he somehow figured would be called ‘Smoker’.  “Goddammit, Mage-y, THE ONE TIME you don't stay where I left you...and where are your sunglasses? Either way, you scared me half to death! Day I’m having, I’m amazed I haven’t died of heart failure yet, swear to god.  What are you even doing over here…”

            Sha held out his hand.  “Distal phalanges!”

            “…what are you talking…” Juan blinked.  “You spoke?”

            “…Yes?”

            Juan stepped closer, still staring at him fixedly.  “You spoke.”

            Sha frowned at him. “I….did?”

            “You SPOKE.”

            “Repetition. Why?”

            “You spoke! YOU SPOKE! OH MY GOD, YOU FINALLY SAID SOMETHING.” For some reason, Juan was laughing and crying as he said this, and to Sha’s further shock, he found himself pulled into a tight bear hug that he MIGHT have protested receiving if he hadn’t been so completely bewildered. “Youspokeyouspokeyouspoke” whispered the other man, rocking him slightly as he said it, like it was a magic chant or something.  And then Sha found himself struggling to hold him up, as Juan’s knee choose that exact moment to give out.

            “Err, yeah…I kinda beat the crap out of him by accident.” Said the big male Charger.

            “Barry, we’ve talked about this...” Said Charger.

            “I said I was sorry!”

            “Ohmygod!” said the Mousey woman, who looked like she was ready to cry herself.  “You really said something!  I never thought you’d talk again…I thought you were broken forever…oh you poor…”

            “umm…Help?” said Sha, partially because he really wanted the mouse girl to stop being on his side, and partially because Juan was starting to get kind of heavy.

            “NOW can we call a medic or something?” Said Barry.

            “Sounds like a good idea.”  Said Charger.  “Angie…”

            “Heeeeelp!” yelled Sha, teetering before falling backwards. “Ow.”

            “Sorry.” Muttered Juan.  
       
            **~End for now~**

**Author's Note:**

> -This fic is actually about a year and a half old at the time of this posting, but it has been only in my LJ up until now. I am reposting it here, now in one part (it was originally divided into two chapters due to LJ space limitations) because my LJ is functionally inaccessible right now, and I would like this to be available SOMEWHERE, even if only two people are really interested. 
> 
> -The beanie plush Tory was described holding in the beginning was, in fact…SPACE PONY! @w@  HAR HAR HAR!  
> Seriously, it was originally just going to be a plain brown horse beanie baby doll (which is a nod to the abilities Tory/Tora has in his own story…that is, the ability to shape shift into a large Bay colored stallion.)  But in the end, I couldn’t resist the urge to give SPACE PONY a cameo.  So for the sake of this story, I’m saying that SPACE PONY is a nostalgic cartoon character in RAWverse, one from a bizarre, surreal, and blatantly obscene show that only ran a few episodes before getting cancelled forever, but is now a cult classic for animation hipsters.   Which is why it is possible to get new and old merchandise featuring him.  
> Anyway, Tory had that beanie for IMPORTANT PLOT REASONS that will come to play in a future story (if I ever get around to writing it.)
> 
> -I want you guys to know that writing from Sha’s POV during that one surreal section?  Not only was I actually kind of channeling roughly how I felt when I had an actual minor breakdown once (especially the whole ‘bee stung brain’ description), but in attempting to recreate that mindset, I actually started to give myself a headache, and even relived it a bit.
> 
> All in the service of attempting to describe the scrambled thought process of someone who’s mental capacity had broken down so far that he’d forgotten how words worked.
> 
> -Distal Phalanges have either become and arc word or a catch phrase for Sha now.  I’m not sure which.
> 
> -I admit, I got a little shameless with Smoker getting all warm and fuzzy when thinking about Hunter and the Bakery.  I swear, next time, I will show them being cute TOGETHER.  Just assume for now that they were cuddling in the background of the last scene, and I was too lazy to describe it.
> 
> -FIRST PROPER APPEARNCE BY VEL’S CHARACTER, LISA!  I like Lisa; she’s a mad scientist zombie sympathizer.  (I’ll talk more about her when I’m not up too late for my own good.)
> 
> -FIRST SPEAKING APPEARANCE BY BARRY THE CHARGER. (Juan’s sitcom nemesis.  As opposed to CuredPro, who will be his and the ladies serial killer nemesis.)  Barry is kind of sweet and simple (though not STUPID) when he isn’t relapsing and trying to mow your down for walking in the wrong place.
> 
> -All lady characters here, except for Dr. Lisa, are Zarla's.  Dr. Lisa is Veloxyll's.  Everyone else who actually got a speaking line is mine.


End file.
